


Ride The Lightning

by Lady_Katana4544



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dark, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Katana4544/pseuds/Lady_Katana4544
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dark warning for mentions of a sociopathic nature in relation to a religious dogma.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Ride The Lightning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rebecca Hb (beckyh2112)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckyh2112/gifts).



> Dark warning for mentions of a sociopathic nature in relation to a religious dogma.

"Next."

Of all the things his people had adopted from Earth, it was the electric chair that had fascinated him the most. Theirs was a more heavily modified version of the human's electric chair. It was designed so that one of the mechanisms on it would fire a focused energy beam straight into the spark and break it up from the inside out. There is a flash not unlike Earth lightning, and a scream from the mech, before it was over.

It had adaptations to it that were reminiscent of Wheeljack's touch. Of former inventions made by the mech.

No one came to watch his subjects be killed by it anymore, the novelty of the device having worn off by now. He had faded into the shadows of society with the machine, wrapping their hardened edges in the curtains of grime and fear that still littered the backstreets of Cybertron. But he would never shut it off. Would never stop the lightning from dancing where he willed it. There were others that he still had to kill. Had to purge so that the rest of their society could live.

A pull of his lever sends another spark spiraling back to the well.

He no longer tries to fight against the coldness that had settled in his spark. It wraps around him like dying wings, burying his feelings so far far down. It gets so very hard to breathe sometimes even when he shutters his optics. So he decides not to. Shifting and revolving and striking like the energy beam of his machine along his dogma. Only Skydive knew what helped and could make him livable in society's view of the word. The mech tries and pulls at him, attempting to soften the hardened edges of his shattered conscious - to make society see him as normal. Each bend and coax only shifts his cold spark to face inward more, to strengthen the resolve of his quest.

Society is so fickle, yet demanding. The juxtaposition of it so irrational and cruel.

Another spark fractures and dies out with the pull of his modified lever.

They say that you can see the face of Primus in the optics of the dying. Vaguely he wonders. What would he do if he did see Primus? Would he take up his embrace of warmth and wind, and abandon this caustic society? Or would he deny himself that peace to stay, frozen and broken, with the one mech that he would never need to purge?

Another pull of the lever.


End file.
